


i don't want this to end

by R00M203



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, On the Run, Sad, lets cry about scully, scully deserved better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28433241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R00M203/pseuds/R00M203
Summary: on the run. mulder and scully in a diner. a baby cries. a small twist. that's basically it.
Relationships: Dana Scully & William | Jackson Van De Kamp, Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 31
Kudos: 115





	i don't want this to end

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't posted any writing in a bit and i'm feeling ~shy~ so if you read thank you! let's all cry together, doesn't that sound fun?
> 
> no beta, just a bit of short chaos

Her fork scrapes across the plate.

“Sorry,” she mutters, eyes down.

“Scully, you’re not eating,” he says, watching her push her eggs around her plate a little more softly.

She stares, seemingly mesmerized by dripping yolk onto burnt potatoes.

“Do you wanna order something else?” he asks gently.

“No, it’s okay.” She looks up and winces in a way that’s clear she’s trying to smile.

Some days are better than others. Today isn’t a good one. Mulder tried to support her. He ran her baths; he rubbed her feet; he held her while she cried for six hours straight; he made tender love to her when she’d wake from bad dreams; he fucked her passionately on the nights she preferred that. Still, she seemed to sink deeper and deeper into her silent grief.

A baby cries. Her fork freezes. Egg whites slide down the rusty prongs back onto the plate.

She closes her eyes and brings a hand to her chest. Wetness seeps through her cotton shirt onto her finger tips. She lets out a quiet groan.

“Here,” Mulder says, taking off his jacket.

“Thanks,” she whispers, wrapping the denim around herself protectively.

She insisted on pumping. Bottles of frozen breast milk lay abandoned in the freezers of each of the 7 motel’s they’d stayed in over the past month. He wasn’t sure if she pumped in case they got him back, or if she wasn’t ready to give up the last connection to motherhood she felt she had. Either way, he never questioned her.

She taps her foot, her knee rhythmically hitting the underside of the red plastic table. Their plates rattle. She stabs the prongs into a potato with such force it spins off the plate.

“Do you want my shirt?” he asks, already beginning to lift the cotton off his skin.

“No, Mulder. You sitting here shirtless will just draw more attention. It’s fine.”

The baby’s echoing wail off diner walls grows louder with each bleat. She lowers her head and presses her hands against her ears.

“Let’s go,” Mulder whispers.

“I’m fine,” she spits through clenched teeth.

He lowers his arm under the table and places a hand on her knee, rubbing circles into the top of her stiff black jeans. He looks off and listens as she attempts to steady her breath. With her forehead nearing the table she whimpers involuntarily.

“Honey let’s just go, I’ll make something at the motel.”

“I want to sit and eat breakfast like a normal fucking person.”

He lifts his hand off of her knee.

“I’m sorry,” she retreats. “I’m just so tired.”

“Want me to grab you a sweater from the car?”

She wipes the wetness from her cheeks.

“Yes please.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” he says as he stands and kisses the top of her head.

As the ringing bells signify a closing door the tears come. They flow hot, and uninhibited down her cheeks. She puts her face in her hands and turns towards the wall, biting on Mulder’s jean sleeve to keep herself from audibly sobbing.

Grabbing some napkins off the table to clean herself, she turns and faces the window.

She feels something pull on the bottom of her jeans. Turning her head slowly she sees a little pink hand reaching up. She continues and faces the crying baby with swollen eyes, pink cheeks, and chubby arms outstretched towards her.

Her breath catches audibly in her throat and she slowly reaches out her hands, unsure if it’s even real, to lift the crying infant into her arms. The wailing stops suddenly, and she’s mesmerized by round, milky blue eyes looking right into hers. Milky blue eyes she recognizes.

As if moving through molasses she leans in carefully and presses her lips to the child’s warm temple and inhales. The baby relaxes in her arms, melding to the shape of her body with routined ease. She exhales with a sob.

It’s him.

“Jackson,” a shrill voice yells.

He’s being pulled from her arms.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! You know how they are at this age. Once they’re on their feet they’re everywhere, there’s no controlling them,” the shrill voice laughs.

Scully sits frozen, her arms somewhat outstretched, as if still carrying a weight.

“You calmed him down though,” the woman marvels, “no one can do that, not even me sometimes!”

She laughs again, in that kind of forced way strangers do when trying too hard to be friendly. The baby begins to cry, reaching out to Scully once again.

“You’ve got a magic touch. If you’re not already a mom, you oughta be,” she remarks patting Scully on the shoulder and walking away, each word hanging around her like a noose. She watches her blue eyes watching her as they disappear around the corner.

The ringing bells of an opening door. Another hand on her shoulder.

“We only have my old oxford t-shirt in the car, but I figured that’d work fi—” he sees her face.

“Scully what is it?” He crouches next to her, looking up, taking her hands in his.

“It’s him,” she whispers, hardly audible, talking more to herself than to Mulder.

“What?” His eyes scan her face.

She turns to him, “It’s him, Mulder.”

Her voice sounds different.

“Scully—“

“Mulder it is!” She nearly yells, openly crying now.

“He ran to me and reached out his arms and I picked him up and he stopped crying. And his eyes— h-his hands— his smell— it’s him Mulder.” She’s out of breath, heaving and shaking. Sobbing and laughing, unable to filter the emotions washing over her. Overtaking her.

Mulder takes a deep breath and starts slowly, “Are you sure? We saw that little boy in the bank last week and—“

“Mulder that reminded me of him. I wanted it to be— but I knew it wasn’t. This is William. Mulder I know it’s him. He reached for me and when I picked him up he immediately relaxed into my arms exactly how he would every night before I’d put him—” she puts a hand over her mouth and closes her eyes.

“Okay— okay,” he scoots into the booth next to her and wraps his arms around her shaking shoulders. “Where are they?”

She gestures towards the corner with her head, using all her energy to control her sobs.

“I’ll be right back.” He stands up.

“Mulder, what are you—“

“I’ll be right back, stay here.”

She grabs a napkin from the dispenser on the table and tries to compose herself in the window reflection. As she wipes the remaining tears off her face she sees the two bouncing heads approaching her in the reflection.

She doesn’t turn around.

“Scully,” Mulder says quietly.

She doesn’t respond.

“We have 20 minutes with him while they pack up their food and pay.”

She turns slowly, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“It’s okay. Really.” He coos, handing her the baby.

She takes him into her arms carefully, as if worried he might break if she moves too quickly. Pressing her lips into his soft forehead she sways, letting the tears come this time, not caring if anyone sees.

“What did you say?”

“I said my wife and I just lost our baby, and asked that— if it wasn’t any trouble— if you could hold him while they finished up.”

She lets out another half sob half laugh and presses the baby as close as she can without hurting him. She traces his face with the pad of her thumbs, studying each arch and crease to cement it to memory. She strokes his growing strawberry hair, and kisses each long finger. William looks at her as she does this. Big eyes fixated on her every move. He sucks on his fist.

“He’s hungry,” she observes quietly.

Mulder watches them as they sit completely entranced by each other. She smiles, and Mulder realizes he doesn’t remember the last time she smiled. William flaps his arms in delight and, as if attempting a hug, pushes the side of his head roughly into her chest. She laughs.

“How many people?”

“A lot, at least fifteen. Must be some type of family breakfast.”

She grins into William’s cheek, smelling the familiar smell. “I’m happy he has a big family.”

The baby reaches his arms up clumsily and pulls on the collar of her shirt. He bounces and begins to whine.

Her breath catches slightly, “Oh baby, I can’t-”

Mulder watches quietly as her face crumbles into itself. She rocks the baby, and whispers into his ear. Mulder looks away, seemingly out of respect, only making out repetitive, broken “sorrys.”

He grabs a napkin and attempts to catch the continual tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I don’t want this to end,” she whispers, more to herself than to Mulder.

“I know,” he whispers quietly, “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! you're rad <333


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